


Insert witty title here

by awakened_treepanda



Series: Lady Luminary [2]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: El wears the tunic wink wonk, F/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Smut without the actual smut?, Vague allusions to Act 3, its just ... without plot lmao, its porn without plot but without actual porn...?, set post post-game, vague hints of Act 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awakened_treepanda/pseuds/awakened_treepanda
Summary: In which the Luminary waxes poetic about her husband and gets laid. That's it. That's the fic.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Series: Lady Luminary [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881715
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Insert witty title here

**Author's Note:**

> The most unsexy almost smut you will ever read. 
> 
> Panda apparently got distracted with the almost smut lmao so there might still be mistakes both of us missed. You have been warned.
> 
> Characters are aged up;  
> Erik's 22  
> Luminary's 19
> 
> I assume the it took about 2 years or so for the events of the game? So this would be a year after the whole thing.

  
It was a quiet night in Puerto Valor; the silence disturbed only by the faint sound of the waves lapping at the shore and the faint buzz of noise coming from the festivities at the beach. Elrose stares out the open doors of the balcony of the suite, at the sky littered with the twinkling bright light of the stars. 

Despite the months of planning, the hours spent travelling to the city (she could have used zoom but they both wanted to take the time to enjoy the places they've seen now that there's no undercurrent of urgency dogging their steps), the fact that she gets to be here, sitting on the queen sized bed of a modest hotel room with naught a care, is still hard to believe. 

There are times she wakes and expects to find herself on a flimsy bedroll, once again the last to wake and everyone is waiting on her to get up for another day of traveling the world and fighting monsters. 

And there are times she wakes and expects to see the sky painted in a harrowing purple, trails of blood no matter where she flicks her gaze to and the constant haunted looks of every person she meets no matter what city she went to. 

She takes a deep breath and clenches the bottom of the tunic she's wearing, feeling grounded by the distinct smell of the ocean and the familiar texture of the fabric in her hands. 

She hears a door open and turns to look over her shoulder. There, by the doorway to the en suite bath stands her husband, towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands, drying wet blue locks. There's a soft light coming from the bathroom that casts a muted glow on him and she nearly startles herself with her own sharp intake of breath.

He's--

Not handsome, no. 

Handsome was for the shy Cobblestone boy that mustered up the courage to go down on one knee and offer up a shimmering band of gold to the sweet young lady Elrose called best friend. 

Handsome was for the prince in Gallopolis that grew into his title and learned to embody the knight's pledge instead of letting it be empty words ready to be recited at command. 

Handsome was for the loveable, outlandish knight in jester's robes that took her hand with a mischievous yet well-meaning smile and deposited a key into her palm telling her not to worry about anything and enjoy her night in Puerto Valor. 

Handsome was a passing thought to be swept away the moment her eyes drifted from the person that sparked it. 

No, handsome is not a word she'd use to describe her husband. Not for the one that occupied her thoughts every day, not for the one her eyes always sought out first no matter the occassion. 

He was Erik. There was no other way to describe him. He was who he was. The boy with the striking blue hair. Her ever present partner. The love of her life. 

Who was standing stock still, hands frozen from where they'd been haphazardly rubbing a towel on his water-logged hair. 

"Erik?" 

He stutters out a breath as he shuts his eyes closed for a moment. When he opens them again, he stares right at her, eyes widened ever so slightly. His hands falls to his side, towel hanging limply from where he's clenched it in one fist. 

"Is that my tunic?"

Her cheeks warm and her pulse quickens. Still, she manages a small shy smile. She rises and turns to face him fully, shivers when she sees his eyes slowly trail down over her form before they flit back up to meet hers. 

She knows how she looks. She had fretted over herself in front of the mirror in the corner of their hotel room. Had loosened the laces in the front, tugged at the green fabric to uncover just a bit more skin only to flush a bright red seeing her chest so exposed. 

"Yeah," she says, gingerly making her way to him. She's hyper aware of the way the hem brushes against the skin just above her knees. Her fingers twitch with the urge to tug the hem lower. 

"Got the urge to try it on," she whispers just as she steps into his space. "Hope you don't mind."

This close, she can see the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the droplets of water still lingering on his skin.   
  
When she musters up the courage to look him in the eye, she finds his gaze angled downwards, tracing over the way his tunic opens at the front and frames her chest. 

"El," he says, as if breathless when his gaze comes back up to meet hers. "Can I ... ?"

The words are familar and a smile forms on her lips, unbidden and genuine. It was the same one he whispered against her skin while his fingers pawed at the waistband of her underwear on the night of their wedding. 

(She really liked that memory, found it sweet he thought to ask even though she had all but dragged him to bed.)

As always, her answer had been and always will be--

"Yes," she tells him, taking his hands into hers and unclenching the fingers holding on to the towel. It falls onto the floor with a soft thump but neither of them notice. 

Elrose walks them backwards until she feels the familiar smooth silk of the bed sheets hit the back of her knees. She lets herself fall, bouncing a little once she lands on the bed. Erik soon follows, his arms coming to rest on either side of her head, one leg bent and propped up on the mattress. 

She tilts her head up just as he leans down and she sighs contentedly, feeling the gentle press of slightly dry lips against hers. They part with matching smiles and Elrose scoots up the bed, settling down against the pillows. 

Erik crawls over her before he dips his head down and starts to trail light kisses down her neck. She closes her eyes just as she feels a hand come to rest on her thigh and feels herself steadily growing warmer as fingers ghost along the slit on the side of the tunic, leaving light fluttering touches on the skin left exposed. 

She tenses in anticipation when the fingers dip under the fabric, slowly teasing their way up until they come to a stop on her hip. Erik abruptly pulls away to stare at where the tunic has bunched up at her hips. 

"El," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "You're not wearing any..."

She bites her lip, cheeks coloring as she takes his wrist in a loose grip and drags it over her skin, under the bunched fabric to let it rest between her legs. It takes nearly all her willpower not to moan at the touch. 

"It's still my turn to pick what we do today." Elrose opens her eyes and smiles when she sees the pure desire in his. "I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk tomorrow."

  
When Elrose wakes later, long after the sun has risen, she tries to get off the bed only to stumble on unsteady legs. Erik comes in the room then, balancing a tray filled with breads, fruits and two glasses of water. When he sees her struggle, he sighs, leaving the tray on a nightstand before coming over to lift her into a princess carry. 

She grins at him sheepishly before pecking him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you."

He stays silent as he brings her to the bathroom but she can see the way his cheeks are stained with a light dusting of pink and the redness at the tips of his ears. 

When she's settled in the tub, loose limbed from the soothing warmth of the water, she still can't quite believe she gets to have this. Still thinks she'll wake up one day to find it had all been some elaborate dream. 

But it's okay, she tells herself, relaxing into the fingers gently scratching at her scalp. She has time to convince herself. Elrose tilts her head back to look at the man seated on the edge of the tub. He glances at her, a question in his blue eyes. She simply smiles at him.

She finally has time. 

(Much later, Elrose winces as she takes a seat on the fancy chair matching the lavish dining table in Don Rodrigo's mansion. She hears the person across her gasp and she freezes. 

Slowly, she turns and comes face to face with the absolutely delighted grin curved along Sylvando's mouth. 

"Oh no," she says faintly.)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by another fic with the same premise.


End file.
